This TV cameraman freelancing lark can be a little hard to take sometimes. For the last 4 days I have sat on my arse doing nothing much in the way of newsgathering, assuming that I had finally been rumbled by the news desk who have struck me off the International Cameraman Rapid Action Practitioners list. ( Or iCRAP if you like acronyms. )
What I am trying to say is that sometimes, and for quite long periods of time, the phone just doesn't ring. The news can ebb and flow, so as a freelancer, you need a hobby...
I have often thought of becoming a pig farmer / pole dancing club entrepreneur, but can't afford the dancers. My underwater rat throttling league came to nothing, and I couldn't get to grips with rhythmic dancing due to an acute case of Cameraman's back.
So I sit here at my keyboard and write for you, dear reader(s). My prose may well be akin to a trained chimp. I may split my infinitives, annoy the apostrophe Nazis' and niggle with the nounage but it keeps me from being under the feet of Mrs ukcameraman.
As is typical, just as I am about to write my forthcoming roller coaster of a novel, featuring a lantern jawed, blue eyed, sophisticated, dinner jacketed cameraman, ( In no way is based on me...) who saves the world from terrorist armageddon with his trusty Leatherman tool and a roll of gaffers tape, my phone rings....
"Am I available for a little light filming this evening..? Oh, and Friday, we're going to need you on Friday. Have you got anything planned for the weekend..?"
Nope... I have nothing planned, for the news business does not allow for this in the fickle freelance world of feast or famine. I return my dusty manuscript to the shelf, check the batteries for the camera and load up. I'm on the road within 10 minutes. The phone rings again on route...
"When are you coming home..?" Asks Mrs ukcameraman...
Ahh, that's better... It's like the last four days never happened.
Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter.
What I am trying to say is that sometimes, and for quite long periods of time, the phone just doesn't ring. The news can ebb and flow, so as a freelancer, you need a hobby...
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| "It was a dark and stormy night..." No, hang on... "ukcameraman's laser like blue eyes pierced into her naked, quivering body. They coupled like hungry animals as lust overtook them..." That's better... |
I have often thought of becoming a pig farmer / pole dancing club entrepreneur, but can't afford the dancers. My underwater rat throttling league came to nothing, and I couldn't get to grips with rhythmic dancing due to an acute case of Cameraman's back.
So I sit here at my keyboard and write for you, dear reader(s). My prose may well be akin to a trained chimp. I may split my infinitives, annoy the apostrophe Nazis' and niggle with the nounage but it keeps me from being under the feet of Mrs ukcameraman.
As is typical, just as I am about to write my forthcoming roller coaster of a novel, featuring a lantern jawed, blue eyed, sophisticated, dinner jacketed cameraman, ( In no way is based on me...) who saves the world from terrorist armageddon with his trusty Leatherman tool and a roll of gaffers tape, my phone rings....
"Am I available for a little light filming this evening..? Oh, and Friday, we're going to need you on Friday. Have you got anything planned for the weekend..?"
Nope... I have nothing planned, for the news business does not allow for this in the fickle freelance world of feast or famine. I return my dusty manuscript to the shelf, check the batteries for the camera and load up. I'm on the road within 10 minutes. The phone rings again on route...
"When are you coming home..?" Asks Mrs ukcameraman...
Ahh, that's better... It's like the last four days never happened.
Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter.
